


Camp

by swimmingfox



Series: Potential [13]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aoife Stark-Payne - Freeform, Beer, Benjeera, Campfires, Camping, Children, Clara Stark-Tyrell, Drinking Games, F/M, Florence Stark-Clegane - Freeform, Forests, Gin - Freeform, Ivan Myr, Jaime is so hot, JojaqHorsemanSlayer, M/M, Mendip Hills, Missandedd, Modern AU, Modern Family except with Game of Thrones, Oscar Blackwater, POTENTIAL 13 HAHAHAHA, Podrya, Potential forever, Potential lives on, Rain, Reunions, Robbaery - Freeform, Scottish Highlands, Silly, Stoats, Sweet, TEDDY STARK-CLEGANE - Freeform, Tents, Trains, Tree-climbing, Tygritte, UK - Freeform, extremely gentle and un-angsty, glamping, mandolins, minnows, parenting, potential, sansan, yurts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:21:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25629616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swimmingfox/pseuds/swimmingfox
Summary: A continuation of Potential, my long-running British-set Modern AU, which has plenty SanSan, but also the mighty Podrya and many other ships and crackships. Start at the beginning, or with 'Rebound' if you are only here for the SanSan!The girls are glamping in yurts in the highlands of Scotland, without children. The boys are less glamorously camping in the Mendip Hills, very much with children. Fairly short and sweet!
Relationships: Davos Seaworth/Catelyn Tully Stark, Jaqen H'ghar/Jojen Reed, Lyanna Mormont/Rickon Stark, Meera Reed/Benjen Stark, Missandei/Edd Tollett, Podrick Payne/Arya Stark, Robb Stark/Margaery Tyrell, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark, Tyrion Lannister/Ygritte
Series: Potential [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/412825
Comments: 162
Kudos: 88





	1. Friday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jbx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jbx/gifts), [SleepyGirlFelix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepyGirlFelix/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI EVERYONE! Here is the next little fic. One more to go after this and then Potential is DONE for EVERRRRRRRR. Trying a more omniscient narrator here for something different, so there isn’t much inner monologue; going for joyful and silly, dialogue-heavy multi-cast, unlike the last one! Hoping it works.

**Girls**

‘This,’ said Ygritte. ‘Is proper outdoors.’

‘Totally wilding ourselves,’ said Missy.

‘There aren’t any bears, are there?’ said Sansa.

They were standing in a small clearing surrounded by Scots pines, with a view of mountains further off and the sound of a river in the valley below. Their accommodation for the next two nights took the form of two large yurts festooned with gently-twinkling fairy lights. Meera and Benjen’s own house was half a mile away down a dirt track – it had been a very bumpy last part of the journey here.

‘The nearest thing you’ll get to a bear is a deer,’ said Meera. ‘Or a beaver. Neither are terribly man-eating. ‘

‘Or woman-eating,’ said Benjen.

‘They’d better not be,’ said Ygritte. ‘I’ll fucking have them.’

Benjen showed them the inside of the yurts, which were decorated in a simple, cosy style, filled with throws, cushions and candles.

‘It’s better than staying in a cottage,’ said Margaery, stretching, her bump becoming more prominent. ‘Just gorgeous. Thank you, Sansa, for arranging this. You total star.’

‘My pleasure,’ said Sansa. ‘Now that Arya being in the country is a bi-annual event, we have to make the most of it.’ 

‘Where is she, anyway?’ said Ygritte.

‘Half an hour away with Lyanna,’ Sansa said, checking her phone.

‘It’ll be fabulous,’ said Margaery. ‘And I’m sure the boys will have a grand old time without us.’

***

**Boys**

‘Whose idea was this again?’ said Sandor.

‘Yours, mate, I believe,’ said Bronn, leaning back on his tarpaulin, hands behind his head, perfectly comfortable with the sound of six children under nine either running, yelling, crying, or all three simultaneously.

‘Arse,’ said Sandor.

They were standing by the edge of a wood in the Mendip Hills, with a long, sloping field and a stream running alongside it. The campsite had a couple of camper vans right up the other end, but this section was theirs. Originally it had been just Sandor, Bronn, Pod and their various kids, plus Edd, but now Robb was putting up his tent under the pertinently loud instruction of his daughter Clara, Rickon was sitting cross-legged carving wood with a dangerously large knife, and Thoros’ son Ivan was lying on the ground screaming blue bloody murder whilst Thoros looked benignly around at the wood like he was part-tree. 

Then there was no one’s favourite melodramatic musician.

‘No one said you could come,’ Sandor had said to Robin, who had leapt out of Thoros’ car with far too much energy. 

‘Thoros did!’ said Robin. ‘And Pod!’

‘Sorry,’ said Pod, looking not guilty enough.

‘I’ve brought my mandolin,’ Robin was saying, looking round at the woodland with an overly merry sigh. ‘And my shruti box.’

‘JUICE BOX,’ said Teddy, who always had extra-good hearing when there was any mention of food or drink.

‘No, sweet little second-cuz,’ said Robin. ‘A shruti box. It’s an Indian harmonium.’

‘Of course it bloody is,’ said Sandor.

‘I had to come,’ said Robin, laying his hand dramatically on his chest. ‘I needed to get away from the Big Smoke and out into the restorative fresh air. I’ve had my heart broken.’

‘Sweet Jesus,’ said Sandor. 

***

**Girls**

‘Right,’ said Benjen. ‘If you’re all set, I’ll leave you ladies to it.’

‘What, you’re not hanging around to get off your tits with us lasses?’ said Ygritte.

Benjen gave a warm grin. ‘I reckon I’ll be safer up at the house. Enjoy yourselves. Give us a buzz if you need anything,’ he said to Meera, putting his arm around her and kissing her gently just the once.

‘Aw,’ said Sansa. ‘You guys.’

‘He’s lovely, your lad,’ said Ygritte, as he strolled off down the path.

‘Thank you,’ said Meera, with a merry beam. ‘Yep, pretty flipping happy these days.’

‘Pretty hot, truth be told.’

‘Mmm-hmm,’ said Missy. ‘Can’t say I disagree. Sexy wildman feels.’

‘Literally my uncle,’ said Sansa.

‘Yup,’ said Arya, who’d arrived with Lyanna a few minutes ago. ‘Grossness. Talk about the fitness of relatives is banned from this weekend.’

‘You’re no fun,’ said Ygritte.

‘Screw you, bitch,’ said Arya. 

Sansa gave her sister another hug. ‘I’m so happy to see you.’

‘You saw me three days ago.’ 

They’d had a family reunion at their mum’s, and Arya had brought them all maple syrup and Toronto Maple Leafs shirts for Teddy and Florence. Sansa had sobbed for an hour.

‘You know what I mean,’ Sansa said, not letting go.

‘You two are gorgeous,’ said Margaery, with a glittering smile. She was four months pregnant with her and Robb’s second child, and glowed even more than ever. ‘I wish I had a sister.’

‘You can have both of mine,’ said Ygritte. ‘Though last I heard one of them had started a fight after a Hull City game and given an away fan two black eyes. Think she’s on probation now.’

‘Blimey,’ said Margaery, though still rather unruffled. ‘How exciting. I’m going to unpack. Who’s sleeping where?’

‘Oh,’ said Sansa. ‘You, me and Meera in that one, and Arya, Ygritte, Missy and Lyanna in the other.’

‘Perfect,’ said Margaery, with a wink, and picked up her designer holdall, ambling to the left-hand yurt.

Ygritte was staring after her. ‘Remind me again why Miss Hoity-Toity-Silver-Spoon-Up-Her-Arse had to come?’ she said to Sansa. 

‘Because she is our sister-in-law,’ said Sansa. ‘And Robb was going to the boys’ camp. I wasn’t sure she’d be up for it but she leapt at the chance. She’s so amenable.’

Ygritte snorted. ‘ _Amenable_. Are we in a fucking Jane Austen novel? That woman stole my boyfriend and fucking married him.’

‘Please be nice. You’re with Tyrion now.’

‘So?’

‘Doesn’t that count for something?’

‘Not in my book,’ said Ygritte, darkly, looking after Maragery with the air of an assassin. 

***

**Boys**

It _had_ been his idea, Sandor supposed, coming back from a piss in the woods. Sansa had suggested a girls’ weekend away, and that why didn’t he get together with all the guys and kids? As he wasn’t ever keen on saying no to Sansa, now more than ever, he went with it.

‘Uncle Thandorrrr!’ Aoife now had a slight Canadian twang to add to her lisp. She ran round him in a circle and did a handstand, followed by a cartwheel. 

‘You,’ said Sandor. ‘Are a royal pain in the arse.’ He didn’t mean it. Sometimes he worried about Aoife still being his favourite kid when he had two of his own, but then it was easy to prefer one whose arse you didn’t have to wipe.

‘That’s a naughty word,’ said Aoife. ‘Arth.’

‘Nothing compared to the other naughty words I know.’

‘Do you know naughty wordth? Naughtier than poo and bum and fart?’

‘Way naughtier. Come on.’ He leant down, and Aoife instinctively knew to climb around his neck. He stood, with her sitting on his shoulders, and they walked back to the group. 

‘Pleathe tell me them,’ she said, jamming her heels into the sides of his chest. ‘Pleeeeeeathe.’

‘Your mother would hang me up by my insides if I taught you swearwords.’ 

Pod came up, holding two cans of lager, already open. 

‘You read my mind,’ Sandor said, taking one from him.

‘Yeah, I reckon it’ll be an interesting balance of beer to childcare this weekend,’ said Pod, smiling up at his daughter on her uncle-throne. 

Behind him, Edd was being attacked by Oscar and Ivan, both holding wooden swords.

‘It’s good to see you, pal.’ He held his can out. They’d left for Canada ten months ago, and plane prices didn’t make it easy to pop back over. It wasn’t the same without them.

Pod touched his own can to Sandor’s. ‘Yeah. You too.’

***

**Girls**

‘Bottoms up,’ said Margaery.

‘ _Salut_ ,’ said Sansa.

‘Just say cheers like normal people,’ said Arya.

Late afternoon, and they had started on the canned gin and tonics and already polished off five packets of Bombay mix already.

‘I like this kind of camping,’ said Missy. ‘I thought it would all be toasting marshmallows and drinking hot chocolate and getting bitten by bugs.’

‘No guarantee you won’t get the last one,’ said Meera, grinning.

‘Camping doesn’t mean scrimping on booze,’ said Sansa, holding up her glass. She had been sure to bring limes, forest or no forest. Though it was strange being without the kids, she was bloody well going to make the most of it. Sandor had sent her a picture of Teddy in his wellies, holding the hand of a just-about-standing Florence, in very little wellies. The sunlight had been behind them, making them glow like little fairies, Florence’s curls copper-gold.

‘How’s your fella?’ said Ygritte to Missy. ‘Does he smile much these days?’

‘He smiles plenty with me,’ said Missy. 

‘He always made me think of Stan Laurel.’

‘That is very rude. Edd is the best of all men.’

‘I might contest that,’ said Arya. ‘No offence, mate, but I’ve got a man who wears earmuffs willingly.’ She fished out her phone to show them the photo evidence.

‘Ahh, bless his little cotton socks,’ said Ygritte, passing the phone on.

‘Seen it a million times already,’ said Sansa.

‘Yeah,’ sighed Missy. ‘Now I need to get Edd some.’

‘We don’t need them any more, seeing as our winters don’t get below an average of 6 degrees,’ said Lyanna, portentously.

‘They still get pretty arse-numbing up here,’ said Meera. ‘Not that I’m denying the climate crisis or anything.’ She passed the phone on. ‘Yep. Dead cute. Pod wins all the cuteness awards.’

‘Adorable,’ said Margaery. ‘So Missy, how’s it going with the adoption front? You don’t mind me asking?’

Missy had taken a melancholy look at Margaery’s small bump when they’d all met at the train station, but blinked and smiled it away swiftly. ‘It’s getting there,’ she said. ‘We’ve got a possible match, but there’s tons of paperwork and stuff for them to sort out. We had one fall through a couple of months ago.’ She sighed.

‘You’ll get there,’ said Sansa. She knew now that Missy had suffered not one but three miscarriages, and couldn’t imagine the emotional pain they must have created. ‘I know it. The last one just wasn’t to be.’

‘I’m never having children,’ said Lyanna, gloomily. 

‘Too right,’ said Ygritte, holding her hand out. 

‘No offence,’ Lyanna said to Missy. ‘Adopting children is earth-friendly. Everyone should adopt.’

‘Glad to hear it,’ Missy said, rather charitably.

‘No offence,’ said Lyanna to Margaery.

‘None taken,’ said Margaery, holding up her can of fizzy peach cordial. She didn’t seem to get offended by anything, including Ygritte putting a finger in her mouth and pretending to gag.

***

**Boys**

‘DADDY CAN WE GO UP TREE.’

‘Be my guest, pal,’ said Sandor.

Teddy gazed at the tree for a moment before turning crossly to his father. ‘DADDY I CAN’T DO IT ON MY OWN.’

‘Bet you can.’

Teddy shook his head. He was a little timid at the moment, not that you’d know it from his foghorn voice. ‘I TOO SMALL DADDY.’ He was actually growing at quite a rate. Definitely one of the tallest in his class. 'YOU AS TALL AS TREE YOU HELP ME GO UP THERE.’

‘Not quite as tall, sweetheart,’ he said, rising from the ground anyway, and scooping him up. ‘Right, come on then.’ He hoisted him up above his head and levered him onto a sturdy branch. ‘Hold on there, now.’

Teddy sat clutching a side-branch and looked extremely happy. ‘DADDY SHOW FLORENCE I IS IN THE TREE.’

‘I’ll get her in a sec.’ He glanced over to the pond, where Rickon was holding Florence’s hand and pointing to the water.

‘I don’t like climbing trees,’ said Clara, who’d appeared by him, wearing a princess outfit, with Oscar in her wake. ‘Trees are very dirty.’

‘OK.’

‘I don’t like dirt one tiny bit. Dirt is just very dirty,’ said Clara. She waved her wand at it, as if casting a spell to make everything mud and insect-free.

‘Dirt is just _dirt_ ,’ said Oscar, who was turning into a right little shite in Sandor’s opinion, not that he ever mentioned that to Bronn. To be fair, Bronn said pretty much the same. ‘You are a pathetic little wimp-girl.’

Clara burst into tears.

‘That was uncalled for, mate,’ said Sandor, as Robb came ambling over. ‘Apologise, Oscar. Don’t be a –’ he still had to work very hard not to swear in front of children. ‘Be nice.’

‘But she _is_ a wimp-girl,’ said Oscar. ‘A really pathetic one.’

‘I’m not! I just like being clean!’ sobbed Clara. ‘I am a very clean girl!’ She flung herself into Robb’s legs, wailing.

‘Please tell me it’s not going to be like this all bloody weekend,’ said Sandor.

‘I THINK IT BLOODY IS DADDY,’ said Teddy.

***

**Girls**

‘I’m going foraging,’ said Lyanna, standing up.

‘We do have enough food,’ said Sansa. ‘There’s a whole other bag of Pringles and olives in the car. And sundried tomatoes and three buckets of M&S sweet treats.’ They had already eaten four cool-bags worth of food. Missy treated herself to a second gin, even though she drank very little, and was now feeling quite fizzy-headed (Ygritte approved). Ygritte had started a crisp-eating contest with Arya (Ygritte won). Margaery consumed the least even though she had said she was eating for two (Ygritte scowled).

‘Yeah, but I like to get the practice in,’ said Lyanna. ‘For the coming apocalypse.’

‘I’ll come with,’ said Arya. ‘I fancy catching me a hare or some shit.’

‘With what, exactly?’ said Meera.

‘My bare hands,’ said Arya. ‘You forget, I live in Canada now. They’ve got proper woods and stuff there. Not like this baby forest stuff. When we go for a weekend walk, we see frickin’ moose. Massive antlers looming out of the woods.’

‘I was thinking more like dandelion leaves and acorns,’ said Lyanna. ‘I’m vegan.’

‘We can do that,’ said Arya. ‘Anyone else?’

‘I’m quite comfortable with gin and tonic, thanks,’ said Sansa.

‘So,’ said Ygritte to Sansa, as Arya and Lyanna left. ‘What’s happening with you and the big man at the mo?’

Sansa sighed. ‘It’s OK. It’s not always joyful, but . . .’ she sighed again. Sandor had sent her another photo of a dripping wet Teddy, with _TELL MUMMY I SPLASH MY FEET IN THE STREAM AND I GOT WET_ as the caption. ‘It’s OK.’

‘Is that all I’m getting? Come on. Give us the dirt. No matter how dirty.’

Sansa shared a glance with Missy, who had heard this all before. ‘Oh, you know. We’re trying to work things out. But it’s not the kind of thing that takes a sticking plaster. More like a knitted bandage, where you have to learn to knit first.’

‘But you both want to? Patch things up?’

‘Yeah. We want to.’ 

‘Slowly and surely, mate. You guys are eggy bread.’

‘You stick with it, Sansa,’ said Margaery, holding her face up to the fading light. ‘Relationships aren’t all plain sailing.’

‘What, you mean yours isn’t?’ said Ygritte, rather spikily. ‘Trouble in paradise?’

‘Well,’ said Margaery, putting a graceful hand on her bump as she leaned backwards. ‘No, to be honest, Robb and I never argue.’

‘’Course you fucking don’t,’ said Ygritte, viciously, spitting an olive pip out.

***

**Boys**

They were sitting round the fire expertly made by Thoros and Rickon, toasting marshmallows. Ivan had eaten a whole bag and was looking green, and Clara was picking delicately at hers whilst Oscar prodded her in the arm. Aoife was telling them that fires and marshmallows were bigger in Canada, just like everything else. The fire was accompanied by the sound of Robin, strumming on his mandolin. 

‘Beer?’ said Bronn.

‘I’ll be pissing all night long,’ Sandor said, taking another one anyway.

‘You said pithing,’ said Aoife, sniggering.

‘Peeing. I said peeing,’ Sandor said. 

‘MY DADDY GOT A REALLY BIG WILLY,’ Teddy informed everyone.

‘All right, mate, you don’t have to rub it in,’ said Bronn.

‘Willy,’ said Oscar, sniggering and prodding Clara again.

‘Size isn’t everything,’ said Thoros, with a genial smile.

‘Great,’ said Bronn, rubbing his palms together. ‘Go on, then. I could do with some tantric sex tips.’

‘Nothing tantric about it, mate,’ said Thoros.

‘I would like to remind everyone that I am present,’ said Robin, playing a dramatic diminished 7th chord. 

‘No chance of forgetting that,’ said Sandor.

***

**Girls**

‘Where are they?’ Sansa drained her fourth gin and looked behind her into the forest. ‘It’s getting kind of dark.’

‘Lyanna’s probably talking to a beaver,’ said Ygritte. ‘I bet she speaks beaver, no pun intended. Or is there – she still with Rickon?’

‘Yep. Thick as thieves.’ Lyanna had founded her own youth climate crisis movement, and was the sort of stoic, fervent speaker that got lots of retweets and made the right-wing newspapers apoplectic. Rickon, on the other hand, usually preferred chaining himself to trees.

‘I’ll go and have a look in a bit,’ said Meera. She cocked her head. ‘Oh no, hold up – incoming.’

Arya and Lyanna emerged from the forest, ruddy-cheeked and cheerful. 

‘Yo,’ said Arya. 

‘I was starting to worry,’ said Sansa. 

‘No need to worry when I’ve got Lyanna Warrior Princess with me,’ said Arya. ‘The two of us are total kiss-ass motherfuckers.’ 

‘What did you get?’ said Ygritte. ‘I could make room for a bit more.’ She patted her belly and burped. 

‘Burdock, yarrow and loganberries,’ said Lyanna.

‘Scratch that,’ said Ygritte. ‘I’ll stick with me rocky roads.’ She hooked the bucket towards her.

‘Swear we heard something though,’ said Arya.

‘Yes, yes,’ said Sansa. ‘Bears and wolves, very scary.’ She gave a mock-shudder.

‘No, we did,’ said Lyanna, who wasn’t in the habit of making jokes.

There was a crackle from behind them and everyone stilled, looked behind them into the woods, and at each other.

‘Didn’t you say there _weren’t_ wolves?’ said Missy, shuffling a little further towards Meera.

‘Definitely no wolves,’ said Meera. ‘Promise.’

Another loud crack, and a rustle.

Lyanna picked up the nearest large stick, and thwacked it into her upturned palm.

‘Or bears?’ said Missy.

There was movement, coming closer. A sound that might have been an animal, rumbling or growling. A low, indistinct murmur.

‘Not usually,’ said Meera, frowning into the darkness of the woods.

‘I’m ready,’ said Ygritte, standing up, and teetering only slightly from the large amount of gin she had drunk. ‘Fucking come and have a go, fucking bear-wolf motherfucker. I will tear you from limb to limb with my goddamned fucking teeth.’

Crackle. Rustle. Low murmuring. 

‘I am too drunk to fight bears,’ whispered Sansa.

A shadow, lower at one end, became two shadows, one small, one tall, and increasingly lit by the fire into two golden, glowing people.

‘My love,’ said Tyrion, spreading his arms. 

‘Good evening, ladies,’ said Jamie Lannister, next to him, carrying a large canvas rucksack.

***

**Boys**

‘A fiver that it’s Clara.’

‘Tenner.’

‘That’s very judgmental,’ said Robb. ‘My daughter hates being bad. She rocks. I’m putting a tenner on Oscar.’

‘Oscar’s probably awake, but planning world takeover, so he won’t be showing his face,’ said Bronn.

The kids had all been put down in their various tents, after repeated toilet visits (all), bedtime stories under ineffectual lights (Robb), lullabies (Thoros), and threats to nieces (Sandor), and the adults were making bets on who would be up again first.

‘No offence,’ said Thoros, stretching. ‘But I’m going with Teddy.’

‘Yep,’ said Robin. ‘Teddy it is.’

‘Aoife,’ said Sandor, feeling indignant. ‘Fifteen quid says she’ll be up in the next ten minutes, telling us that sleeping bags are bigger and better in Canada, just like everything else.’

‘Not cocks, though,’ said Edd, a little morosely. ‘Apparently Scots are the front-runners there.’

‘I don’t know,’ said Pod, leaning back with a very simple smile.

‘Can we stop talking about cocks,’ said Sandor. ‘I just want to drink beer and shove the rest of of the marshmallows in my face and not hear children for the next few hours.’

‘DADDY,’ came a stoic voice from two tents away. ‘DADDY I IS NOT SLEEPY.’

‘Fucking bollocks,’ said Sandor, sighing and getting up.

***

**Girls**

‘I simply couldn’t stay away, my love,’ said Tyrion, who now had a gin and tonic in his hand. ‘Life is so much duller without you there.’

‘Ugh,’ said Arya.

‘You are a fucking disgrace,’ said Ygritte, looking pleased nonetheless. ‘Giz a kiss.’

Lyanna rolled her eyes.

‘And I do hope you don’t mind my brother coming along for the ride,’ Tyrion said. 

‘Not at all,’ said Margaery, beaming.

‘We’ll manage,’ said Missy, also beaming.

Greying, golden stubble, strong jaw, freshly-cut hair, long limbs angled towards the fire: frankly, Jamie Lannister looked even better in firelight.

‘Lady Lyanna,’ he said, giving her a hug. ‘First of her name, saviour of the earth. Hopefully.’ They’d worked together several times on climate crisis campaigns, and even she softened her ferocious countenance just a little.

‘Well, you’re not stopping,’ said Ygritte. Margaery and Missy looked rather disappointed. ‘Well, they can’t. Girls’ weekend. Them’s the rules.’

‘Ah,’ said Jaime.

‘You can go up to the house,’ said Meera. ‘I’ll call Benjen and let him know. We’ve plenty of room, and plenty of whisky.’

‘That,’ said Tyrion. ‘Sounds perfect.’

‘I’ll check in on you tomorrow, you big lug,’ said Ygritte. ‘Just so you don’t pine and die.’

‘Ugh,’ said Arya.

‘Wonderful,’ said Tyrion, and kissed her again.

‘That man,’ said Margaery, quite delightedly, once the brothers had bid their goodnights and wandered down the path. ‘Is a total fox.’ She fanned herself. ‘Jaime, I mean,’ she said to Ygritte, effervescently. ‘Though of course your beau is gorgeous too.’

‘Go anywhere near him and you’re dead meat,’ said Ygritte, much less effervescently.

‘He is crazy sexy,’ said Missy. ‘Jaime. Like Bear Grylls but without the annoying parts.’

‘Didn’t he and Jojen have a bit of a thing?’ said Meera to Arya. ‘At your wedding?’

‘Not just Jojen,’ said Arya. ‘Ugh.’

***

**Boys**

‘I’m really glad I came,’ said Robin with a merry sigh, as the campfire dimmed. ‘Only lying in a field communing with nature will cure my broken heart.’

The campfire was dimming now, and moths and gnats blurred the air. Four children had variously got up, wailed, needed the toilet, wanted to eat more marshmallows, or all of the above. Edd had quietly wondered, and not for the first time, whether he was really ready for all this.

‘Come on, then,’ said Bronn. ‘Let’s hear your sob story.’

‘Or let’s not,’ said Sandor.

‘I want to hear it,’ said Robb, leaning on his elbows.

‘Me too,’ said Pod.

Even Rickon, who by now had carved a barn owl from his stick, looked up.

‘OK,’ said Robin, lightly strumming his mandolin. ‘There was this girl called Priya.’

‘Who had a delightful rear, yes, we know,’ said Bronn. 

Pod grinned.

‘Ooo, that’s a good idea,’ said Robin, looking animated. ‘I can tell it in a limerick as well as accompany it. Yes! I’m more used to writing in blank verse these days but I do love a brief. Limitations are an opportunity for further creativity.’

Sandor sighed, extremely heavily.

Robin began to sing, in a faultless tenor, strumming a new chord for every line. ‘ _There was a sweet girl named Priya / Who sang alto both sweet and clear / I fell straight in love / But when push came to shove / She didn’t like me being near . . . her._ ’

Robb whooped.

‘ _So then there was Clementine Jackson / Whose hair was long, blonde and flaxen / She played the bass flute / And said I was cute / And for three months I was on my back, son._ ’ 

Bronn creased up. 

‘That doesn’t work so well. Never mind.’ Robin strummed again. ‘ _Then Priya, she changed her mind / And started being flirty and kind / So I began shagging her / All the while bragging, yeah, / That I was still seeing Clementine._ ’

‘It’s like fucking Shakespeare,’ said Bronn.

‘ _Priya and Clementine fought / By the food at the restaurant court / They both split up with me / Priya poured tea over me/ And lo! It has all come to naught._ ’

‘Wow,’ said Robb. ‘That was actually quite impressive.’

‘Thanks, cuz!’ said Robin. ‘Sorry for the details, Thoros.’

‘Not at all, son,’ said Thoros. ‘I can’t say I’m proud of you, apart from the singing.’

‘Yeah,’ said Robin, sighing thoughtfully. ‘I’ve decided that seeing two women at once is not really the right thing for me.’

‘Or indeed anyone,’ said Robb. ‘Speaking from experience.’

‘I’ve decided to just focus on number one for a bit,’ said Robin.

‘You, or getting to Number One?’ said Pod. ‘If that’s still a thing.’

‘I meant me, but either is fine.’ He gazed pensively into the fire. ‘Though I don’t think a double oboe and bass drum concerto is going to make it.’

‘Can I put in a request for no more singing,’ said Sandor. ‘By which I mean order. Or maybe threat.’

‘Done!’ said Robin, still strumming his mandolin genially.

‘No more playing, either,’ said Sandor. 

‘I see,’ said Robin, courteously taking the mandolin strap from over his head. ‘Ah well,’ he said, drawing his knees up. ‘I suppose I could tell you about –’

‘Or talking,’ said Sandor, and picked up another beer.

For a few minutes, Sandor got his wish, and the campfire seemed to dim further, the darkness drawing its velvet in around them. There was only the sound of the snapping wood, and two more cans of beer fizzing open. He watched the flames, and wondered how his wife was doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For any SanSan fans clamouring for in-depth stuff: errrr, sorry! I think the last one was enough for my delicate, anxious soul for now, haha. I've been bingeing Modern Family (7.5 seasons in about 3 months, hahaha) and this is the result, somehow. Also, I miss Scotland. But I promise that the last fic will be back to usual POVs and more introspection, including more of these two, etc.
> 
> I do hope everyone is as well as can be. Sending you all much love, especially the regular Potential crew. One day we will all be hugging and camping and getting pissed on gin in forests again. Actually, the latter two are doable now in the UK, LATER *jumps in imaginary camper van*


	2. Saturday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is turning out to be extreeeeeemely silly and very gentle, hope that fits the mood right now!

**Girls**

‘I am so hungover I cannot chew,’ said Sansa, looking mournfully at a croissant. 

‘Same,’ said Arya.

‘I definitely feel shady,’ said Missy, picking delicately at hers.

‘ _Pthh_ ,’ snorted Ygritte, eating her second bacon sandwich. ‘Lightweights.’

‘One advantage of elderflower cordial,’ said Margaery, beaming through dewy, radiant skin. 

Scotland’s customary early autumn mizzle was having a day off. The morning was pleasantly cool and the sun intermittent through fast-moving clouds. Sansa had at least managed to sleep, out like a light as soon as her drunken head hit the pillow, waking up to find Margaery doing her cleansing routine as if in a hotel room, and Meera shrugging on her wax jacket to go and pick late blackberries. In the other tent, Missy had lain politely awake for much of the night, listening to hearty snores (Arya), sleep-swearing (Ygritte), climate-related nightmare-mutters (Lyanna), and the disgruntled complaining of two gins too many (her stomach).

‘Only one cure for hangovers around here,’ said Meera, turning the mini-gas cooker off.

‘Chips?’ said Ygritte.

‘Hair of the dog,’ said Arya. ‘Hair of the beaver.’

‘I’m not putting any beaver hairs in my mouth, ta,’ said Ygritte. ‘Been there, done that.’

‘Nope,’ said Meera, standing up and stretching. ‘You’ll see.’

***

**Boys**

‘Christ,’ said Sandor. ‘I feel like I’ve died and been dug up.’ 

‘SCRAMBLED,’ said Teddy, behind them.

‘Get that down you,’ said Bronn, who had drunk more than him last night and had already been for a morning jog. He passed Sandor a flask-cup of strong, sweet tea.

After far too many cans of beer – including Robb’s increasingly successful artisan brand – Sandor had fallen asleep in his clothes on top of his sleeping bag. Florence had woken an hour later, and he’d had to walk her around the perimeter of the field before she nodded off, only to return to find Teddy up again, telling him he’d dreamt about giant spiders eating his eyeballs. Sandor had finally gone to sleep as the dawn was starting to line the horizon, his two bairns sprawled on top of him. It had felt like only minutes later when the light was fully up, the tent stifling hot, and the pair of them tumbling over him, fresh as daisies.

‘FRIED,’ said Teddy.

‘Thanks, mate,’ said Edd.

Sandor downed the cup in one and looked over the field. Thoros was sitting cross-legged a little way off, meditating. Rickon was expertly cooking eggs over the fire, and Teddy was bringing back everyone’s orders one at a time. Clara was spinning in a circle in her princess outfit and Aoife was practising her cartwheels. Robin – lazy student – wasn’t up yet. His little half-brother was filling in for him, singing heartily at the top of his (excellently in-tune soprano) voice to a tree. 

Sandor bent down to wipe the profusely-pouring nose of Florence, who was currently holding onto his leg. He quite often walked around with his daughter as an extra leg-brace, and made sure he never joked about that to Edd. 

‘DADDY WHAT EGGS DO YOU WANT,’ asked Teddy. ‘I TOLD UNCLE RICKON FRIED WITH THE SUN IS THAT RIGHT.’

‘Thunny thide up, dummy!’ shouted Aoife, upside down (though she somehow still wasn’t as loud as Teddy).

‘You’re both near enough,’ said Sandor, glancing over at Rickon, who held up a thumb.

‘Your lad is priceless,’ said Bronn. ‘D’you wear earplugs?’

‘We’re used to it,’ Sandor said. ‘Just about. This one’s started clapping.’ He nodded down to his daughter. ‘So it’s pretty much the circus every waking minute. What’s the plan today?’ 

Bronn shrugged. ‘Walk along the river, cook some meat, drink some more booze, I reckon.’

There was a flurry of anguished tears from behind them. Clara had stopped spinning and fallen dress-first into a puddle. Oscar was pointing and laughing.

‘I hope she’s brought a wardrobe of those princess outfits,’ Bronn said. ‘Because she’s getting through them pretty fast.’ He jogged over to admonish his gloating son and help her up.

‘Ugh,’ said Sandor, to no one in particular.

Florence clapped.

***

**Girls**

‘Mint,’ said Ygritte. ‘I’m bang up for this.’

‘Awesome,’ said Lyanna.

Meera had led them down a winding forest trail, the mozzies glittering in tawny shafts of light. The trail had led down to a small loch, with the low mountains rising up beyond them, and a red squirrel had darted in front of them and up one of many Scots pines. It was gloriously idyllic, were it not for the fact that Meera was suggesting that the Highlands cure for a hangover was a wild – a _very_ wild – swim.

‘Oh,’ said Missy. ‘Hmm. I’m not equipped. No costume.’

‘Won’t it be insanely cold?’ said Sansa.

‘Not as cold as in January,’ said Meera, cheerfully. ‘And undies are fine, ladies. Or indeed nothing at all, which will feel even better.’

‘Bloody yes,’ said Ygritte, already out of her parka.

‘Let’s do this,’ said Arya. ‘I am a hard Canadian badass now. I laugh in the face of your puny British lakes.’

‘I might not hurl myself in,’ said Margaery. ‘But I shall definitely dip. Commune with nature.’

A not-entirely-subtle scoffing noise from Ygritte, who still seemed to be darkly plotting some sort of downfall for her old rival.

‘That’s the spirit,’ said Meera. ‘Come on, you soft Southerners. You can’t let one lass from Hull get the better of you.’

‘Peer pressure,’ sighed Missy, leaning down to unlace one of her trainers. ‘Is a bitch.’

***

**Boys**

‘Christ’, said Sandor. ‘That little shit doesn’t stop.’

They were on their way back from their river walk, which had been soundtracked by Robin (as much as Sandor tried to throw the mandolin in the river). The kids had been fishing for minnows and Oscar had held one and tried to put it down Clara’s dress, before Bronn had amiably taken it off him. Now the little Blackwater wanker was telling Robb’s daughter that a wolf was going to eat her in the night, and though Clara had originally stood up to him, the constant needling had got to her in the end, and the waterworks had recommenced.

‘I would kill the wolf for you, Clara,’ said Aoife, quite seriously.

Clara ceased sobbing just a little. ‘Thank you. I haven’t learnt how to do that yet.’

‘I can. I can kill it in the heart and the lungth and everything. With my bare fitht.’

‘That’s my girl,’ said Pod, as Clara let her hand be taken by Aoife, the two of them wandering ahead to catch up Rickon, who was holding the hand of Teddy (shouting about frogs) on one side and Florence (clapping merrily) on the other.

Pod and Sandor continued to walk side by side on the river-path. 

‘Heard from Sansa?’ Pod asked.

‘Aye, once or twice,’ said Sandor. ‘I think she’s enjoying a wee break from those two.’

‘Fair enough.’

‘I’d say I wasn’t used to having the kids on my own,’ said Sandor. ‘But that would be a lie.’ 

‘How’s it been?’ said Pod, as unobtrusive and non-judgmental as ever.

‘Aye, tough. You know.’

‘Yeah. I figured.’

Ahead of them, Robin was making up a new song about Clara being an empowered fighting princess. Thoros was walking with Ivan on his shoulders, pointing out dragonflies. 

‘You know, I stayed out of the way for a while,’ Sandor said. Pod had a way of creating a comfortable silence that he didn’t mind filling. ‘Apart from looking after the kids during the day. Sal, my pal in Manchester – well, Bronn’s pal originally – let me stay at his place. He’s not there much.’

Pod nodded. ‘How’s the counselling going?’

‘It’s hard. Not just the stuff between Sansa and me, but all the stuff that’s come out about me, and how I feel about myself, and my past.’ He glanced at Pod. ‘You’d think that I might have been able to work through that all myself, what with my old job and all.’

‘I don’t think it necessarily works like that.’

‘Turns out not.’ He let out a ragged sigh. ‘I should have done it a long time ago. Would have maybe nipped a few things in the bud. But it’s helping. Slowly.’

‘That’s good.’

‘Aye.’ Robb and Edd had caught them up, talking behind them about Robb’s ever-expanding brewery. ‘Anyway. You guys all OK?’

‘Always,’ said Pod, with an easy smile.

‘You got your rocky patch out of the way early, I guess.’

‘I guess so.’

‘And Aoife’s thriving, by the looks of things.’ His niece was pointing an imaginary crossbow at Oscar, who wouldn’t play ball and refused to get shot.

‘Yeah. We were a bit worried about her leaving all her friends, but she’s dived into it all. She’s a boss at ice hockey. Flattens everyone.’

‘Good lass.’

Behind them, a phone rang, and Edd, seeing whose number it was, fell behind the rest of the group to take it.

***

**Girls**

It had been beyond freezing. Sansa had gone in and come straight back out again. Arya had bombed in from a rock, twice. Lyanna went off on her own along the shoreline, face down to watch the fish, and Missy, who had resisted for some time, finally picked her way over the stones and stayed in for longer than she would have imagined. Margaery had beatifically stood calf-deep in the shallows, on the phone to her daughter talking soothingly about princes and swords. Ygritte and Meera had swum most of the way across the loch before turning back.

‘Tell me I’m not going to die of hypothermia,’ Missy said, her teeth juddering, a towel round her shoulders.

‘That’s what the flasks are for,’ said Meera, as cheerfully as ever. ‘You’ll be right as rain.’

‘Rain’s about right,’ said Ygritte, standing pale, naked and skinny, nodding at the low, dark grey crowds that were beginning to gather over the hill.

‘I’m glad I did it,’ said Sansa, who had already put all of her clothes back on and drunk two cups of tea. ‘But I have literally no inclination to do it again.’

‘Your phone’s buzzed a couple of times,’ said Arya to Missy, nodding to the pocket of her coat.

‘Cheers, bae,’ she said, walking over to it.

‘Probably your man asking for back-up,’ said Ygritte. ‘He’s probably had his hair braided by the little lasses or been smashed in the face by a mud pie or summat.’

Missy was holding the phone to her ear, her face attentive, serious.

‘Is everything OK?’ said Sansa, more gently.

They were all watching her as she stood, dripping and goosebumped, in her matching, soaked underwear.

‘Yeah,’ she said, taking her phone away from her ear and gazing at it again, before looking up at them all. ‘New match from the adoption agency.’

***

**Boys**

‘Twins,’ said Bronn. ‘That wasn’t in the advert.’

‘No,’ said Edd, who wore a pale, thoughtful countenance.

‘What d’you reckon?’ said Sandor.

They were back at the campsite now, the kids mostly stroppy and knackered after their long walk. Sandor had done his best to convince Teddy not to have a nap, and to convince Florence to have one. Naturally, Teddy was fast asleep in the tent and Florence was highly alert beside her father, pushing her hands with committed fascination into the mud, gurgling cheerfully.

‘I’ll talk to Missy,' said Edd. ‘It’s been ages, you know. We’ve had a couple fall through.’ He didn’t say how much they’d compounded Missy’s fragile sense of self-worth, after three miscarriages, how many nights he’d spent comforting her, and how hollow all his platitudes – _it’ll be alright_ and _it’ll all pan out soon_ – had begun to sound. He didn’t say how terrified he was at the thought of managing two little ones – a boy and a girl, aged two – when even one felt daunting.

‘It’ll be a beautiful adventure,’ said Thoros, who was rolling what looked very much like a large spliff.

‘Main thing is,’ said Bronn, looking at his watch to confirm that it was a faintly civilised time of the afternoon. ‘We can crack open the bevvies to celebrate.’

Florence clapped.

***

**Girls**

‘Fucking rain,’ said Ygritte.

‘It had to come eventually,’ said Margaery, effortlessly upbeat. ‘Scotland and all that.’

‘Not always rainy,’ said Meera. ‘10% of the time it’s perfectly dry. Ha.’

They’d walked back through an increasing downpour and were now in one of the yurts, listening to it barrel down on the canvas roof.

‘We’ll have to play a game,’ said Margaery.

‘ _Blrggh_ ,’ said Arya.

‘Scrabble?’ said Meera. 

‘Fuck that,’ said Ygritte, stretching for the Prosecco. ‘We’re going to celebrate Missy’s impending family explosion –’

‘Completely not confirmed,’ said Missy, equal parts genial and delicate.

‘Bollocks. Your man will do what you say and you want them, don’t you?’

‘Mmm,’ said Missy, trying to bite her smile in. ‘I might.’

‘Cracking,’ said Ygritte, popping the cork from the bottle, where it pinged off a beam and hit Sansa in the temple.

‘Ow,’ said Sansa.

***

**Boys**

‘Make it stop,’ said Sandor, amongst the melee of croaking, growling and yelling.

‘I’ll say it again,’ said Bronn. ‘This is all on you.’

The kids had been face-painting (Thoros had sourced a range of biodegradable, environmentally-sound paints), and a range of animals had been requested to Rickon, who turned out to be a dab hand. Now they were running around the campfire, high as kites on chocolate and fresh air, a mad coterie of child-beasts.

‘Let them run it out,’ said Robb.

‘Let me run away,’ said Sandor.

Aoife was, of course, a wolf. Florence had little shoals of angelfish across her face. Teddy was a stout little lion. Oscar was a dragon, and Ivan had snake-scales. Clara was a very, very glittery butterfly. 

‘You look like such a _girl_ ,’ said Oscar.

‘I _am_ a girl,’ said Clara, crossing her arms very tightly and looking the other way.

‘Itsy-bitsy-girly-wirly,’ said Oscar, wiggling his hips.

‘Right,’ said Bronn, who usually had endless amounts of patience, putting down his beer and standing up. ‘You’re pushing it, mate. Off to the tent with you. No marshmallows.’

Sandor decided to keep schtum about the fact that he’d polished off all of the marshmallows last night.

‘But it’s still light,’ said Oscar, pointing upwards at the sky.

‘Tough,’ said Bronn, and his nod was authoritative enough for Oscar to stand and meekly follow him. ‘Sorry, love,’ Bronn said to Clara as he left. ‘He’s missing his mum, I think.’

Clara stared at the muddy ground, churned to the beginnings of a swamp by six small pairs of wellies. Her bottom lip was looking very fat. 

‘It’s alright, sweetheart,’ said Robb, though frankly no one, big or small, had any love for Oscar (possibly not even Bronn).

Clara’s bottom lip began trembling.

‘What would make you feel better?’ said Pod. ‘Bet we can make it happen.’

Clara bravely managed to keep in her tears, looking round the circle. ‘I want to make all the grown-ups into pretty princess butterflies,’ she said.

‘Brilliant,’ said Sandor.

***

**Girls**

‘How are we out of Prosecco already?’ said Ygritte.

‘Because you drank it all,’ said Sansa, who was rationing her intake after last night.

‘Balls,’ said Ygritte, who definitely wasn’t.

‘There’s still wine,’ said Meera, reaching for another bottle of red that Jaime had brought along. ‘And gin.’

‘Right,’ said Ygritte. ‘Drinking game.’

‘Damn, I won’t be able to play,’ said Margaery, cheerfully.

‘What a crying shame,’ said Ygritte, less cheerfully. ‘You can umpire then. So it’s a yes or no game – first person asks a question to another, and they can only say yes or no. If they hesitate, laugh, refuse to answer or repeat a question that’s been asked already, they have to drink.’

‘Ugh,’ said Arya.

‘I don’t really drink,’ said Lyanna.

‘Have some herbal burdock pissy what-not, then,’ said Ygritte. ‘None of you are destroying my game. Right. Me first. Missy.’

‘Mmm,’ said Missy, not entirely enthusiastically.

‘Have you ever shagged outside?’

‘Mmm-hmm,’ said Missy in a gentle affirmative. ‘I mean, yes.’

‘Details,’ said Sansa.

‘That’s not part of the game.’

‘Go on, though.’ 

Missy coyly raised her eyes to the sky. ‘Behind a sand dune. I got sand everywhere. Edd went really fast because he was scared that a man with a kite was going to see us and I couldn’t stop laughing.’

‘Is he any good in bed?’ asked Ygritte. ‘Your lad? I can’t quite see it. The man’s like a sad clown.’

‘You are very unkind. He’s my hero.’ Missy straightened, gracefully. ‘And yes, he is stellar in bed, thank you very much. He is very industrious.’

Ygritte snorted. ‘He’s not a combine harvester.’

‘Maybe he is.’ Missy smiled sweetly, then laughed. ‘I have no idea how to make that innuendo work.’

‘What about Tyrion?’ asked Meera.

‘What about him?’ said Ygritte. ‘No asking about his size and all that shite, I’m dead against all that prejudiced bullshit.’

‘I just wanted to know if he was good in bed.’

‘If he wasn’t, I wouldn’t be still with him, would I? I’ve got priorities, you know.’ Ygrittte took a liberal swig of wine. ‘Yeah, he’s cracking. Very handy with his fists.’ She gave a devilish grin. ‘Lyanna –’

‘No,’ said Sansa. ‘All sex talk around brothers or uncles is distinctly banned, or I will take all the wine away.’

‘I concur,’ said Arya. ‘With extra punching.’

***

**Boys**

‘Have seen you seen Clara?’ said Robb.

It was finally beginning to get dark, and they were all gently pissed. Every man sat up, looked around and found five children, not six.

‘That’s weird,’ said Sandor, whose face was festooned messily in pink and purple wings.

‘Swear she was just there a second ago,’ said Edd, sporting yellow and green-glittered cheeks.

‘Hmm,’ said Robb, frowning. ‘Aoife, where did she go?’

‘I dunno,’ said Aoife. ‘I didn’t thee. I wath too busy laughing at Uncle Thandor being turned into a giant beautiful butterfly.’

‘Shut it,’ said Sandor. He had a lot of smudgy face paint in his beard.

‘DADDY IS THE BEST BUTTERFLY,’ said Teddy. ‘HE GOT THE BIGGEST WINGS.’

‘Yeah, yeah, the biggest everything,’ said Bronn. ‘We know, mate.’ He glanced at Robb. ‘I’ll go and check the tents.’

Robb went towards the toilet block, and Rickon and Pod got up to scout their area of the campsite. Thoros rolled himself another spliff.

‘IS CLARA DEAD DADDY,’ said Teddy.

‘No, Ted,’ said Sandor, putting his arm around him. ‘She’ll not be far off.’

Florence clapped.

As Bronn came back, he met Robb coming the other way. ‘You might want to see this,’ Bronn said, holding out a torn page from a children’s book.

‘Oh, bastard,’ said Robb, looking at it.

‘What’s up?’ said Edd, who was feeling increasingly overwhelmed about the prospect of having two sudden children.

Robb read it out. ‘Dear Daddy, I am going to the woods to learn how to be a brave princess so I can punch Oscar in the nose. I don’t know when I will be back. If I am eaten by a wolf I am sorry but I tried. Lots of love, Clara.’

‘Perfect,’ said Sandor, under his breath.

‘PERFECT,’ echoed Teddy.

***

**Girls**

‘Your phone’s going again,’ said Lyanna to Margaery.

‘I’m leaving it,’ said Margaery, merrily. ‘Nothing at all is going to interrupt my girls’ weekend.’

‘Turn it on bloody silent, then,’ said Ygritte. ‘It’s doing my fucking head in.’

‘Oh God, of course. Apologies,’ said Margaery, serenely unoffended, reaching over for it. ‘Hmm. Three missed calls from Robb.’

‘Can’t live without you, eh?’ said Ygritte, decidedly bitter.

‘Well, he’ll have to,’ said Margaery, demonstratively turning her phone off. ‘Right. Where were we?’

‘My turn,’ said Sansa, who had vowed not to get so drunk tonight, and was definitely feeling it already, what with continually hesitating before her answers. She just wasn't in the mood to divulge her sexual history with Sandor at the moment. ‘Have you ever got caught having sex?’ she asked Meera.

‘Are they all going to be sex questions?’ said Lyanna, gloomily.

‘What would be more interesting than sex questions?’ asked Ygritte.

Lyanna looked doughtily upwards. ‘Have you ever thought where you would move to if England got too hot in the summers?’

‘Yeah. That’s not as interesting.’

‘Nope,’ said Meera. ‘In answer to the question. Never been caught in the act. Margaery, have you ever kissed a girl?'

‘Yes.’ Margaery gave a self-assured shrug. ‘I’m pretty bi, really. Or poly. Anything goes. Though Robb obviously ticks all my boxes.’

‘Does _he_ know that?’ said Ygritte. ‘How poly you are?’

‘Yep,’ Margaery said, with a winningly self-assured smile.

It was Lyanna’s turn. ‘Have you ever had a threesome?’ she asked Ygritte.

‘Bloody hell, Lyanna,’ said Arya.

‘What? I’m supposed to ask sex questions.’

‘No problem answering anyway,’ said Ygritte.

‘ _Lalala_ ,’ sand Sansa and Arya, loudly and as one. 

‘Yep,’ says Ygritte. ‘With their brother –' pointing at Sansa and Arya – 'aka your husband –' nodding ferociously at Margaery – 'and that dumb lad Theon.’

‘I actually didn’t know that,’ said Margaery. ‘Wow.’

‘Having second thoughts?’

‘It actually makes him more exciting,’ she said.

Ygritte scowled and downed her glass.

***

**Boys**

‘It’s not always like this,’ Sandor said.

Bronn had got the adults to split up in their search for Clara. Robb, though initially amused, had begun to look rather worried. Sandor and Edd had taken the barley fields past the campsite, and the dusk was thoroughly upon them now, late gnats and midges gathering above their heads.

‘OK,’ said Edd, unconvinced.

‘Honest. It’s great. They’re great. _Shhh_ , you.’ Florence, in the child-rucksack on his back, was currently very much not asleep, wailing uncontrollably. 

‘OK,’ said Edd, still exceedingly unconvinced.

‘Once you’ve got them, you forget how it was before.’ Sandor called Clara’s name. ‘That said, it’s helpful when they don’t scarper on you. I don’t reckon she’s here, do you? Head back?’

They rounded the field and back into the campsite. Robin had volunteered to stay with the kids, who were all far too excited with the scandal of Clara’s dramatic exit to consider going to bed, and Sandor fully expected carnage. Not that he said so to Edd, what with trying to be encouraging and all that.

Instead, they found Aoife, Teddy, Ivan and Oscar (who had crept out of his tent once he knew his father had gone) sitting cross-legged in front of Robin, who had his mandolin out and was singing a song that included all their names.

‘I didn’t think I’d say it,’ said Sandor. ‘But I’m glad he’s brought that banjo.’

***

**Girls**

‘Just climb!’

‘Yeah, just one big step. Easy.’

‘Can’t!’

Sansa, Arya, Missy, Meera, Lyanna and Margaery were standing at the base of a very tall Scots pine, looking upwards. Looking downwards was Ygritte, from an exceedingly great height, clinging to the trunk rather precariously. It was pouring with rain that had glued each girl’s clothes to her skin (apart from Margaery, who was holding a giant golfing umbrella).

‘It’s my fault,’ sighed Margaery. ‘I shouldn’t have risen to it.’

The drinking game, which had kept collapsing due to a) more details being required or b) too much information being proferred, had turned into a spat between Margaery (beatific, smug) and Ygritte (bitter, sweary) over why northerners could always have a southerner in a fight, which had in turn sparked a bet that Ygritte wouldn’t climb the tree she was currently up, far too high.

‘I think I overshot,’ called Ygritte. ‘D’you reckon I could jump it?’

‘ _No_ ,’ called the other girls, vehemently and as one. 

‘She’d literally break every bone in her body,’ said Arya, more quietly.

‘Hmm,’ said Meera. ‘This is awkward.’

‘Just come back down the way you came,’ called Sansa, for the third time.

‘Can’t,’ called Ygritte, from twenty metres up. ‘Pissed.’

‘She’s got the fear,’ said Margaery, very softly. ‘She won’t admit it, but she has.’

Ygritte had begun clambering, stretching her foot to the nearest branch down. ‘Bit slippery up here.’

Missy put her hands over her eyes. ‘Literally can’t watch.’

The branch Ygritte was hanging from – Scots pine branches not having the sturdiest limbs – began to crack and splinter, and Ygritte got to the branch below just in time. ‘Oh, chuffing hell,’ she said. ‘I’m not doing that again. I’ll just have to stay here. You know, forever.’

The rain seemed to get harder, lashing down, the puddles starting to look like ponds.

‘Are you calling the fire brigade?’ said Sansa, looking at Meera, who was typing into her phone.

‘They’d take about an hour,’ said Meera. ‘Getting more local reinforcements.’

***

**Boys**

‘Margaery is going to string me up,’ Robb said. ‘Obviously.’

Most of the guys had returned from their designated search area without any sign of Clara. 

‘This is on you,’ said Bronn to Oscar, who looked extremely downcast. ‘Wait ‘til your mother hears about it.’ Oscar kicked the log he was sitting on, clearly not looking forward to that prospect.

‘Hello,’ said Pod, nodding behind him.

They all looked round to see two figures approaching from the furthest corner of the field, one fairly tall, the other rather smaller, transforming into the shape of Rickon, holding Clara’s hand.

‘Oh, thank fuck,’ said Robb, before beginning to jog towards them.

‘THANK FUCK,’ said Teddy.

‘ _Shh_ ,’ said Sandor, hoping to Christ that he didn’t commit that one to memory.

They all milled around as they approached, Clara now firmly wrapped around her father. She seemed to be carrying something, a scarf perhaps, in her hand.

‘Where was she?’ said Edd.

‘Down by the river,’ said Rickon. ‘Up an oak tree. She’d made a bow. Rough, but pretty workable.’ He held it up, a bent branch with a ribbon from her dress as the bowstring.

Robb gently set Clara down. ‘You,’ he said. ‘Gave me the fright of my life.’ 

‘Sorry, Daddy,’ she said. Her princess dress was covered in mud and there were twigs and leaves in her hair. Each of her cheeks was streaked – intentionally, it seemed – with two stripes of mud. She looked like a little Bronze Age warrior.

Aoife ran over to give her a hug. ‘We _mithed_ you!’

‘Not you who should be saying sorry, love,’ said Bronn, prodding his son in the back. ‘Go on, mucker. Out with it.’

Oscar dragged his feet towards Clara. ‘Sorry,’ he said, lumpenly. ‘For . . . teasing you.’

Clara eyed him rather regally. ‘That’s OK, Oscar,’ she said. ‘I went looking for wolves but I didn’t find any. But I did find this dead stoat.’ 

She held the limp, long thing she’d been carrying centimeters from his face. There was the definite, vegetal smell of something decaying. Oscar took the briefest of looks at it, yelped and ran away.

Florence clapped.

***

**Girls**

‘Ladies, ladies,’ said Jaime Lannister. ‘We leave you alone for a few hours and look what happens.’

He, Tyrion and Benjen had arrived ten minutes after Meera’s call with the longest ladder they had sticking out of the back of Benjen’s truck.

‘Sorry!’ called Ygritte. ‘Got carried away. I had to prove northerners were the hardest!’

‘That’s my girl,’ said Tyrion in hopeless, lovelorn, amused fashion.

‘Evening, lasses,’ said Benjen, genially.

Benjen and Jamie tilted the ladder against the tree, manouvering it so that it finally fit in between the branches. It looked, frankly, a little rickety.

‘I don’t need your help,’ yelled Ygritte. ‘It’s embarrassing enough as it bloody is.’

‘You do,’ called Sansa. ‘You are not becoming a tree hermit woman on my watch.’

‘Put your fucking phone away!’ shouted Ygritte.

Arya was currently filming everything with a look of undisguised glee on her face. ‘Can’t hear you, mate. Rain’s too loud.’

‘Never fear, my love,’ called Tyrion. ‘Your handsome prince, that is to say my brother, is coming.’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ called Ygritte.

As the rain continued to pelt down, they watched Jamie, the wilderness TV star, limber up the ladder with Benjen holding its base steady, and gently coax Ygritte off her branch. Arya and Lyanna whooped as Ygritte begin to descend the ladder, Jaime below her, talking her down.

‘Oh, thank God,’ said Sansa. 

There was a smattering of applause. Jaime smiled, in admittedly princely fashion.

‘Told you,’ said Ygritte to Margaery, as soon as one foot touched the ground, and without a hint of shame-facedness.

‘Yes,’ said Margaery, ever-gracious. ‘You did. I stand corrected. Northerners are the hardest.’

‘My love,’ said Tyrion. ‘You really must stop trying to prove your worth.’

‘Can’t help it,’ said Ygritte. ‘It’s in my blood.’ She put her face up to the rain, her red hair plastered to her cheeks. ‘Christ. It’s pissing it down.’

‘Yeah,’ said Meera. ‘Not the forecast.’

For a moment, the girls all stood, each thinking how much they would rather not have to dry off in a yurt, waiting for each other to use the small, feeble shower.

‘Well, there’s a big fire, radiators and whisky back at ours,’ said Benjen. ‘If you can bear to break the no-chaps rule.’

‘Fuck it,’ said Ygritte. ‘Let’s do it.’

***

**Boys**

‘DADDY YOU SMELL.’

‘ _Shhh_. Go to sleep.’

‘BUT YOU ALL SMELLY. YOU SMELL LIKE BONFIRE.’

‘Never mind. Please go to sleep now. I’m knackered.’

‘I NOT KNACKERED.’

‘If I read you three pages of your book, will you promise to go to sleep?’

‘OK DADDY I TRY. DADDY I MISS MUMMY.’

'Aye, I know you do.'

'I LIKE IT WHEN WE DO THINGS ALL TOGETHER. YOU ME MUMMY FLORENCE BOWIE.'

'Aye, me too, sweetheart. Me too.'

Sandor, lightly pissed from Robb’s cider and lightly stoned from Thoros’ giant joint, praying that Florence would last at least four hours before waking him up, allowed Teddy to nestle into his side, and opened his book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	3. Sunday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always for all the comments, which give me JOY and LIFE, which I then put back in this fic, and thus the circle of cheer CONTINUES x x x

**Boys**

‘Uncle Thandorrrrrr! Your fayth ith thtill covered in butterfly!' 

Aoife was already in his tent, jumping on him. 

Sandor groaned the groan of a zombie that had already walked a very long way and now had to do battle. ‘Not now. It’s five in the morning.’ There was a strange drumming sound inside his brain.

‘It’th not, it’th half path ten, dummy! Everyone ith up! Everyone exthept you! Rickon made Teddy and Florenth brekkie. Today is pancaketh and maple thyrup like in Canada!’

Another groan, though the thought of food was enticing. ‘Give me two minutes, sunshine.’

‘No thunshine. It’th raining like mad.’

A third groan. The sound wasn't inside his brain, but on the canvas above his head.

By the time he roused himself and staggered outside, stinking of last night’s weed and booze plus a general aura of tent-sweat, all the kids were screaming, high on Canada’s finest sugary liquid. Jesus, his head hurt.

‘Morning, soldier,’ said Bronn, completely unruffled by six children yelling and running round in circles. ‘You look like shite.’

He had probably had seven hours’ sleep in the last two nights. ‘Food. Coffee,’ he said, as the rain prickled his nose.

Rickon was already on it, having set up a little awning over his cooking stove.

‘I am a warrior and I will destroy you!’ Clara was shouting, whilst waving a big stick. It seemed to be some sort of game in which girls were against boys, and girls were definitely winning, even though one of them was one and half years old and only clapping.

Robin emerged from his tent, looking like he’d slept peacefully for ten hours straight. 

‘You,’ said Sandor, pointing vaguely at him. ‘Do that thing you did last night.'

‘What was that?’ Robin asked, faux-innocent.

‘Playing. You know. Singing. For that lot.’

Robin stretched, quite nonchalant. ‘I don’t really feel the creative inspiration this morning,’ he said, putting his face up to the rain.

Sandor leant into his tent, fished around for his wallet, and found a tenner. ‘That inspire you?’ he said, holding it between two fingers.

Robin considered the proffered note. ‘Two nights ago you paid me _not_ to play.’

‘Times change. Be grateful, and pick up your bloody lute.’

‘It’s a mandolin.’

‘Whatever.’

‘The damp won’t be good for the strings.’

‘Go under Rickon’s awning.’

Robin gazed casually towards the girls, currently marauding towards three cowering boys. ‘Twenty should cover it.’

***

**Girls**

‘Literally never drinking again,’ said Sansa.

‘You always say that,’ said Arya. ‘And you always drink again.’

The sisters were standing under the porch of Benjen and Meera’s house. It sat on a shallow hill, sloping down to the forests where the yurts were, and mountains in the distance. The rain was light, a proper Scotch mist, moisture glittering the air.

‘Not this time,’ said Sansa. ‘I don’t even remember the second half of the night.’

‘More drinking games, more sex talk,’ said Arya. ‘Jaime had some impressive stories about snakes that I don’t _think_ were metaphorical. Who the fuck knows.’

‘Morning,’ said Missy, looking rather fresher, due to not having touched a drop last night. 

‘Hey babe,’ said Sansa. ‘How’re you feeling about your new prospect this morning? New prospects,’ she corrected, with emphasis on the ‘s’. ‘How old are they again?’

‘Two.’ Missy gave a careful smile. ‘Need to talk it over with my boy. We’ve texted but his reception wasn’t very good.’

Sansa rubbed Missy's arm. ‘So exciting.’

‘Scary, but yeah. Maybe. I’m not going to expect anything to happen until it actually happens this time. Keep getting ahead of myself.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ said Ygritte, appearing beside them, her utterance absolutely not a comment on the spectacular view or adoption possibilities.

‘Morning, my love,’ said Tyrion, bringing her a coffee and standing beside them. 

‘Ugh,’ said Ygritte, and downed it one. ‘I feel fucking horrible.’

‘That would be a consequence of trying to drink my brother under the table,’ said Tyrion amiably. ‘I don’t know how he does it, but he is a bottomless well when it comes to single malts.’

‘Where is golden boy?’

‘Gone for a run, or a swim, or a walk. Or perhaps all three.’

‘Ugh.’

‘I wish we could stay here longer,’ said Sansa, rolling her neck to one side. The half day-long train ride home – rather longer for Missy, Margaery and Ygritte – wasn’t a prospect she was much relishing. And Arya was going back to their mum’s in Bristol so she wouldn’t see her for another weekend.

‘You can come up any time you like,’ said Meera, from behind them. The smell of cooking bacon wafted out. ‘Fry-ups are ready.’

‘Ugh,’ said Ygritte.

***

**Boys**

‘I have found my vocation,’ Robin said cheerfully.

Sandor was packing the tent up, or attempting to. Wasn’t it supposed to be that they were easier to collapse than pack up? Rickon had done his in about two seconds. ‘Uh-huh,’ he said, gazing at the porch’s guy–ropes.

‘You know, seeing as how children hang on my every arpeggio.’ 

To be fair, all six of them had happily plonked themselves down and joined in with Robin’s made-up songs. He'd done something clever so that Florence's arbitrary claps seemed perfectly timed. ‘Yep, you’ve got a future ahead of you as a children’s entertainer.’

Robin made a scoffing sound. ‘Nonsense! I shall write operas. For children. Children’s operas!’

‘Aye, ‘cause they’re crying out for those all the damned day long.’

Robin was hardly listening, already in a reverie of his own glimmering future. ‘It’ll be amazing. They’ll be avant-garde, but you know, about foxes and chocolate and butterflies and all the things kids like.’ He wandered away, humming a seemingly indiscriminate set of notes.

‘Thanks for offering to help, pal,’ Sandor muttered, under his breath.

‘I can help you, Uncle Sandor,’ said Clara, suddenly beside him, wearing a crown of daisies. ‘I am invincible.’

***

**Train, Glasgow Central to Manchester Piccadilly**

‘I wish you weren’t going back so soon,' said Sansa. 

Arya put her phone down. ‘We’re here for three more weeks.’

It was just the two of them now, having said their farewells to most of the others in Edinburgh. Lyanna was heading somewhere near Loch Lomond to meet Rickon, neither of them yet tired of camping in rain and wind. 

‘I know,’ said Sansa, sighing. ‘But I still wish it.’ She watched the blur of low, green hills. ‘You really like it over there?’

‘Yeah,’ said Arya. ‘It’s cool. Makes everything here seem kinda – small. Houses, cars, views, minds.’

‘Don’t be beating on our Little Britain.’

‘Little is about right.’ Arya looked over at her sister and grinned. ‘You know I was freaking out for a bit, having so much responsibility. But it’s only a tiny office and turns out I’m pretty good at bossing people around.’

‘That I can believe.’ Sansa put her head on Arya’s shoulder. ‘I just miss you. That’s all.’

Arya lowered her cheek onto the crown of Sansa’s head. ‘I know. I miss you too. Gotta come visit.’

'We will. Just – been a lot to work out. It's never felt like the right time to organise a massive family trip across the Atlantic.'

'You can come on your own, you know. Leave the kids to Sandor. You don't have to wait 'til you're all happy families.'

Sansa looked out of the window. 'Yeah. Maybe. I kinda want to come over with everyone, though.'

She slotted her arm into Arya’s and held it tight, the warmth of one sister against the warmth of the other, and together they watched the lowlands of Scotland fade into England.

***

**Scottish Highlands**

‘Glad it’s over or missing them already?’ said Benjen, who’d already made them both a leek and chicken stew (with one of their own chickens) and done all the cleaning up.

‘Bit of both,’ said Meera, pulling over the wine bottle, and pushing it away again. ‘Hmm. Maybe more water for me.’ She sighed. ‘No, it was lovely. Pretty motley crew. Ygritte and Margaery are blood-rivals, that’s for sure.’

‘Oh, aye? Is that what all that tree nonsense was about?’

‘Think so. Did you enjoy your impromptu boys’ night in?’

Benjen gave an amused nod. ‘They’re a pair, those two. Both have enough stories to dine out on for the rest of their lives. Not much makes me blush, but my ears were definitely a bit pink.’

Meera breathed a laugh and settled into Benjen's side. They sat listening to the crack and pop of the firewood, as the rain lashed down outside.

***

**Train, Manchester to Bristol**

_JJ:_  
_How was glamping with da laydeeeez_

_Arrrrrrrya:_  
_Sick_  
_Swam in loch, watched Yg climb tree & get rescued like princess in tower, got bitten three thousand times, ate shitloads of haggis cooked by Uncle B_  
_Tyrion & his bro turned up_

_JJ:_  
_Ooooo_  
_Mmmm 🍆🍆🍆_

_Arrrrrrya:_  
_SHUT YOUR FACE ARSEWANKER_

_JJ:_  
_Happily taking that insult as truth_  
_At least when Jaime was involved 🍑_

_Arrrrrrya:_  
_Ugh u suck_

_JJ:_  
_Indeed_

_Arrrrrrya:_  
_Where u at now?_

_JJ:_  
_Goa_  
_Temples, beaches, fucking divine_

_Arrrrrrya:_  
_Jaqen literally never works anymore_

_JJ:_  
_That’s bc he trusts u to do everything bossgrrrrl_

_Arrrrrya:_  
_Riiiight_

_JJ:_  
_Will give him a kiss from u xxx_  
_Or something to that effect_

_Arrrrrya:_  
_DO NOT GIVE HIM A BJ FROM ME YOU SICK FUCK_

_JJ:_  
_😂😂😂_

***

**Train, Edinburgh Waverly to London King’s Cross**

‘Now,’ said Tyrion, having returned with the teas, and sitting back down at their four-seater table. ‘I won’t hear of this nonsense any longer. It’s time to bite the bullet and make peace. Parlay. Forgive.’

‘ _Humph_ ,’ said Ygritte, glaring at Margaery, who was sitting diagonally opposite her.

‘I think it probably is a good idea,’ said Margaery.

‘I’m happy to umpire,’ said Jaime, cheerfully. He looked, as always, impossibly fresh and stupidly handsome.

Ygritte opened a sugar packet into her cup. ‘You stole my boyfriend.’

‘Former boyfriend,’ murmured Tyrion, benignly.

‘Obviously,’ said Ygritte, looking at him. ‘It’s not like I want him _now_ , Tyr. It’s just the fucking principle.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Margaery. ‘Honestly, I am. In fairness, Robb had said you guys were kind of over –’

‘He what?’

‘And that you’d ended it –’

‘Come again?’

‘Let’s allow Margaery to talk, Ygritte,’ said Jaime.

‘Otherwise of course I wouldn’t have dreamt of dating him.’

‘Cheeky lying bastard,’ said Ygritte, adding her second packet of sugar to her tea. ‘We were on a little downtime, that’s all. We weren’t _over_.’

‘Hmm,’ said Margaery. 

‘I mean, not exactly,’ said Ygritte, opening a third packet of sugar. 

‘Sure,’ said Margaery.

‘It wasn’t a Ross-and-Rachel bollocksy break or owt,’ said Ygritte. ‘Just a breather.’

‘A breather,’ said Jaime. ‘But not a break.’

‘Exactly,’ said Ygritte, looking shifty. ‘I wasn’t expecting a fucking whirlwind three-second romance to happen.’

‘And that was hard for you,’ said Jaime.

‘Aye,’ said Ygritte. ‘It was a fucking punch in the face.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Margaery. ‘I really didn’t know it had been left so – ambiguously.’

‘I guess it might have been seen as a bit ambiguous,’ said Ygritte, sighing. ‘I did tell him to go fuck himself. But I only half-meant it, you know.’

‘Hmm,’ said Jaime. ‘Why don’t we agree that Robb should have been polite enough to perhaps mention that he was now seeing someone else, aka you Margaery, before getting serious.’

Ygritte puffed both cheeks and blew out noisily through her lips. ‘Fuck it. Alright. You win.’

‘No, we _both_ win. You’ve got a delightful man right there,’ said Margaery, with a winning beam.

‘Thank you very much,’ said Tyrion, gracefully, picking up his tea.

Ygritte lifted her tea to Margaery’s. ‘Tell me straight, though,’ she said. ‘Does your husband still have a thing for a vibrator up his jacksie?’

Tyrion spat out his tea onto the table.

Margaery grinned. ‘He may have.’

Missy, who’d opted to have the seat behind their table, listened to them all crease up and put on her headphones. She lay her head against the window as the north become the south, thinking of the space that might one day open up in her future, in Edd’s future, and what it might be like.

***

**London Paddington**

_One who is tired of London is tired of life_ , Robin thought, exuberantly, underneath the high vaulted roof of Paddington station. 

He’d spent his train journey filling his head and the little manuscript notepad with ideas for his children’s opera (and had annoyed everyone around him by whistling, frequently). Now, he joined the dithering tourists with their massive wheeled suitcases and less-dithering workers down the escalators to the tube. 

He already had little ear-worm tunes twisting around in his head. He could imagine the upstairs bit of the Royal Opera House – no, the _main_ Opera House – thronged with excited kids and parents. Robin made a vow. No more getting distracted by beautiful harp/flute/celeste-playing ladies. He was going to going to knuckle down and write a masterpiece.

***

**Bristol**

‘Mummmmyyyyyy!’ shouted Aoife, crashing into Arya’s legs. 

Arya kissed her daughter’s forehead. She would need shin pads soon. ‘What up, mental case. Where’s Daddy?’

‘Making welcome home cookieth of coursth!’

Of course. Because he was Pod. The smell of slowly-baking goodness was floating down the corridor. ‘Hey,’ he said, poking his head out into the corridor.

‘Hey,’ she said, and joined him, putting her head on his chest. A Pod-hug remained the best thing ever, especially when he smelt so goddamned good.

‘Hello, darling,’ said Cat, coming out of the living room with a mug of tea. ‘Perfect timing.’

‘Hello love,’ said Davos, behind her, his hands in his jeans pockets.

‘Alright?’ Arya was still trying to get used to him actually living here, sharing Mum’s room. Her mum looked better these days. Happier. They’d been travelling round Europe together, lots of cute photos in front of landmarks. It hurt, for it not to be Dad in front of the Arc de Triomphe or the cathedral in Bruges, but it was OK.

‘Right,’ said Cat, as Aoife whizzed past her into the living room. ‘Tea. Sit-down. Fill us in on the gory details.’

***

**London**

‘Hey, _habibi_.’ 

And here she was, coming in the door, looking jaded but utterly beautiful, as always.

‘Hello,’ Edd said, coming up to kiss her. 

Missy hummed and sank into him, putting her arms around his neck. 

‘How was it?’

‘There was a lot of drinking,’ she said. ‘I did a bit. Regretted it.’

‘Herbal teas for the next week, then,’ he said.

‘Yeah. How about you?’

‘It was – lively. Good to see everyone.’

Both were painfully aware of trading so lightly around the subject that deeply coloured their minds. Two children, not one. Toddlers, not babies. The same rigmarole would have to be gone down, the endless paperwork, though this time the kids were already in foster care and they wouldn’t be meeting any biological parents.

She didn’t let go of him, her face nestled in his neck. She smelt of the cinnamon gum she always chewed when travelling.

‘What d’you reckon, then?’ he said, very gently, into her hair.

‘What do _you_ reckon?’ she said, just as gently.

They remained standing in the hallway, holding each other. There was the rough-edged growl of a bus outside as it turned the corner from their road. Pepper, their scrawny black cat, came out and began threading himself through their legs, mewing heartily.

‘Let’s do it,’ he said.

***

**Manchester**

‘I am broken.’

Sansa collapsed ungracefully onto the sofa, having already been huggingly, snottily consumed by Teddy, Florence, and Bowie the dog. Teddy had said something about Clara becoming a knight that she didn’t quite understand.

‘Yeah?’ said Sandor, who had gently encouraged Florence onto the floor and Teddy towards his toys. ‘Bit too much fizz?’

‘Too much everything. I feel really rough.’

Sandor, who had been hoping to hand over the kids and have a lie-down, switched his brain into I-Will-Be-A-Better-Husband-Always mode. ‘What d’you need?’

‘Sleep. Food.’

He brought her a blanket and a pillow, and tried not to remember the many times he’d lain on this sofa until recently, wishing to fuck that he was lying next to his wife and wondering if he ever would again. She turned her cheek onto the pillow and listened to Teddy use a giant robot voice to instruct his lorries to smash into each other.

A few minutes later, Sandor squatted down by her with a pint glass of water. ‘Kettle’s on. Cheese on toast is coming.’

‘Mmm,’ said Sansa, quite feebly, rather enjoying being looked after so unquestioningly. ‘Thank you.’

‘THANK FUCK,’ said Teddy, happily absorbed in bashing his plastic lorry into the coffee table.

They both looked at their son.

‘Would you believe me if I said that was nothing to do with me?’ Sandor said.

Sansa hummed an amused, non-committal response. ‘To be honest, he said what I feel,’ she said, quietly enough for only her husband to hear. She brought the blanket up underneath her chin and looked at him. He had a little dab of purple on his beard. ‘I’m glad to be back with everyone. All of you, I mean.’

‘Me too,’ said Sandor, quite quietly, and he wondered, just for a moment, whether things would only get better from now on. Easier. Gentler. He leant over, kissed her forehead, and decided that he could wait a little bit longer before sorting out the cheese on toast.

Sansa shut her eyes, and thought about what she'd just said, and how much she really meant it. Teddy continued to lightly bash his lorry into the coffee table. Florence, who for the nineteenth months of her short, vividly-received life had expressed herself in a growing collection of giggles, squeaks and indecipherable vocables, felt something rise inside her. The sensation of her tongue, her teeth and her mouth working together to form something new, something definite, something newly communicable. 

She breathed in, felt the bubbly fizz of joy burst in her little chest and the sounds come. ‘Dank duck!’ she said.

Teddy looked up, and clapped.

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>    
> ONE MORE TO GO, BRUVS.


End file.
